


When Skies are Grey

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Signs (2002)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-27
Updated: 2005-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merrill's always loved his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Skies are Grey

**Author's Note:**

> Bright Eyes's "Calendar Hung Itself" is so very much my Merrill/Graham otp song. Thanks to Sleeps With Coyotes for suggesting it in the first place.

_/You are my sunshine, my only sunshine  
You make me happy, when skies are grey.../_

It was the first love song Merrill ever learned, and he only ever sang it to one person. Over and over again, his little voice climbing the wall and sliding over the mattress that separated their bunks. Just those words that he could remember hearing in the womb, repeated to the only person Merrill ever truly loved. He'd sing it until his voice gave out, until he was sure that Graham was safe and asleep and happy.

_/You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.../_

****

Merrill knew taking without asking was stealing, and stealing was so wrong God would hate you for it, but they were Graham's shoes. He'd left them behind, so of course he wouldn't mind if Merrill borrowed them for a little bit. The next time Graham calls, he'd tell him about the shoes and that'd make it okay with God--if Momma lets him talk. She hasn't been too happy with Merrill lately, and it was his punishment. He'd cry and cry, and hear Graham's soothing voice echo just out of hearing as Momma'd hold the phone away from her ear, but she wouldn't let him talk.

Stealing was wrong, but when Merrill wore Graham's shoes, he could look down, and, just for a moment, he could pretend that Graham was walking with him. Merrill would chance going to Hell just to not feel lonely for a little while.

****

The minor leagues weren't all fun and games. The only time Merrill ever got to see his brother was when they were playing close enough for the family to drive out to watch. Otherwise he was just dragging the memory of Graham in the stands with him to every city, pretending that he was watching, waving, cheering him on. He'd even pretend the wince when Merrill would strike out, screw up, once again. Colleen wouldn't be there to squeeze Graham's hands when Merrill was pretending--in Merrill's mind it was still just the two of them. It made it hurt worse, the jeers from his teammates, the groans of the fans, the imagined look of sadness on ghost-Graham's face--because Graham wasn't there to make it better for Merrill, and Colleen wasn't there to make it better for Graham.

"Good job," Merrill weakly echoed to himself, wrapping his arms tighter around his legs, hugging the emptiness deep inside. He was scrunched up on the floor, knees to chest, waiting for the booing to go away. Five hours, and he could still hear them...

Chicago was far away from Pennsylvania. Graham was so far away.

Weakly, Merrill leaned over and knocked the handset off the phone. The dull buzz of an open line filled the room. Merrill's fingers danced slowly over the numbers, punching out the secret code that would bring his brother a little closer, if just for a while. Anything to get rid of the noise of the crowd.

The line buzzed rhythmically as a phone rang in Bucks County. Merrill laid down on the floor beside it, staring into the little black holes, waiting.

"Hello, you've reached the home of Rev. Graham Hess and Colleen Hess. Please leave a message after the beep."

*BEEP*

There was so much he needed to say. Things he was afraid to say. Merrill's throat felt like it'd been scoured with glass, but slowly, he began to sing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

****

It was a selfish thought, a dark thought, the kind of thought that God hated you for, but Merrill couldn't stop it from repeating over and over in his head. Even as he stumbled out of the taxi and into Graham's arms, feeling how he trembled and sobbed and felt so thin. Even as he whispered quiet words of assurance, of sorrow, of regret. Even as he steered Graham inside, forgetting his bags on the ground in front of the porch, sitting together on the couch as Graham cried on his shoulder...

Even as he said, "I'm so sorry she's dead," Merrill was thinking, "This is how it is supposed to be."

Just the two of them, together, hugging tightly.

_/This is how it's supposed to be./_

****

The nightmares came quick and loud. The children would sleep through them as only children could, but Merrill would hear it, the moment Graham's breathing would come in gasps, the cacophony of his tears hitting the pillows. After a few nights, Merrill couldn't sleep for waiting for it. He'd stretch out in the chair and dutifully pretend to sleep as his brother went upstairs to bed. He'd wait, listening, ready for the moment Graham needed him. Then he'd be up the stairs in a rush, through the door and right where he belonged, stretched out on the bed with Graham on his chest. He'd wake up out of the dream with a gasping sob, cry until the images faded, and fall back to sleep.

Merrill would spend the whole night there, listening to his breath, keeping away the nightmares with his vigilance. By morning Graham would be all right, and Merrill would sleep in as his brother woke the children, made them breakfast, wiped away their tears.

After a few weeks, Merrill didn't even bother with the couch. He'd follow Graham up the stairs, change into sweats and a t-shirt, and settle into bed beside him. Graham never mentioned it, never kicked him out. He'd only reach out to Merrill in the darkest part of the night, when the memories threatened to overwhelm him.

And then Merrill would hold on tight, humming lightly, until Graham fell asleep.

"You make me happy..."

****

There was nothing more beautiful in the world than Graham slowing waking up after a nightmare-free sleep. After months, he finally slept through the whole night. The relief made Merrill giddy with hope. It was over.

Merrill stroked Graham's forehead, leaning close to kiss his eyelids as he started to wake. He could feel the huff of breath against his neck, warm and soothing and sleepy. It was only a moment that he hesitated, before he tilted his head and pressed his lips against Graham's mouth. It wasn't quick, and it wasn't so innocent, either.

Graham's mouth was slack at first, then Merrill felt the twitch of a smile against his mouth. Slowly, he returned the kiss, coming to life under Merrill's touch. Merrill pulled back for a moment, long enough to take a deep breath, to lick his lips, to feel the tug of need in his chest as he looked down at his brother's face. His eyes were closed, but he was awake, rested, beautiful. Merrill returned, peppering light kisses across Graham's mouth until he dared to lick.

Merrill was ready to pull away at any moment, if needed, but Graham opened under him, drawing his tongue inside with a gentle touch of his own. The sensation nearly overwhelmed him, going straight to his groin and his brain, both of them screaming for more.

Graham's hands on his back were distant points of heat. A low hum rumbled against his tongue as he licked across Graham's teeth, sucked and nipped at his lips.

When Merrill pulled away this time, fighting for breath, for his heart to stop exploding, Graham's eyes were open. Hesitantly, he rose up just a little to meet him again in another kiss. Eyes wide open.

As their teeth clashed and mouths collided, as they rubbed slowly against each other, Merrill thought to himself that this is how it's supposed to be. This is what it's all meant. Everything.

****

Merrill stood outside, smoking, while the kids ate breakfast. He could hear their high voices, as subdued as the clouds over the fields. He moved away from the house, part of him feeling guilty for smoking while Morgan wheezed and coughed through his asthma.

An image, a memory, flashed through his mind--Graham's head on his bare chest, ear pressed over his heart. Beautiful, sad eyes looking up at him. "You smoke too much."

Another flash. Graham sitting on the floor of the bathroom, coughing near the toilet, looking so broken.

The pain Merrill felt in his chest had nothing to do with the cigarette in his hand.

Gravel crunched and skidded behind him, and Merrill automatically flicked the smoldering butt to the ground.

"I think Colleen knew."

Merrill turned around. His shoulders hunched at the sadness in his brother's eyes. Other than that brief moment that morning, it never seemed to get better--if anything, it grew worse. "Knew?"

"That she was going to die. That day, before she left."

Merrill looked down, kicking dust over the butt until the cherry was covered.

"She said..." When Graham trailed off, Merrill finally looked back into his face. His head was tilted back, eyes closed as tendrils of sunlight strained between the clouds. There was nothing more in the world Merrill wanted now than to go over and kiss him. Again.

"She said, 'Go call Merrill. He needs you. And I think you need him.'" His wistful voice dropped in tone as he opened his eyes and looked at Merrill. "She knew."

"Graham..."

"I think, maybe, you can go back to sleeping in the guest room now. Or the living room. I'm okay." His voice sounded dead, hollow.

"No, you're not. Just let me--"

"I'm fine. It's time things went back to normal."

Merrill slipped his hand into his pocket, fishing out another cigarette and popping it into his mouth as he cupped the lighter in his hand.

Graham stepped forward, coming close for the first time since that morning. He plucked the cigarette right out of his mouth and tossed it into the grass. "This isn't good for you."

He didn't mean the cigarette. "How do you know that this isn't.... how it's supposed to be? That things happen for a reason?"

Graham looked at him. From this close, he could see the rings under his eyes, the crinkles at the corners that weren't there when they were kids. "Things just happen. There is no reason."

"Graham?"

"It's time to get back to normal," Graham said, staring into Merrill's eyes like he could bore the meaning into him.

Merrill flicked the lighter nervously in his hand, but he nodded. His throat clenched, and his mouth felt stale from the smoke. When he licked his lips, he could still taste Graham, though.

For a brief moment, he thought that Graham was going to cry. Something broke through that hard barrier he set up, a flash of something. He took that final step forward, leaning his head to leave a quick, searing kiss on Merrill's mouth. He mumbled something softly, almost beyond hearing. Just a whisper of breath over his lips, and Merrill imagined it was something about love.

Then the barrier slammed back. Graham stepped back, awkward and distant. "Come in for breakfast," he said politely, missing some of that warmth they had back, briefly.

Merrill watched Graham walk back towards the house, his stride stiff, his back slumped. He looked 100 years old.

Merrill sank to the ground, sitting in the grass. His hand found the lost cigarette. With a shaky hand he lit it, sucked in a lungful, and let it out slowly.

Merrill choked, and he tried to hide the sting of tears behind his hand. The smoke curled upwards as he laid back in the grass, watching the clouds roil and darken. "I love you," he whispered, more to himself. "Far too much."

_/Please don't take my sunshine away./_


End file.
